Page 87 of Broken Bonds

I wanted this girl. I wanted to understand her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to spend time with her.

But she was my little sister’s best friend, and that role in Celine’s life was more important than anything I was feeling.

Amber

THREE MONTHS LATER

I left a lot behind when I chose to go to Billiards University—not only a boyfriend and two best friends but three sisters, too. We shared everything growing up—clothes, brushes, makeup, advice, you name it.

Here in Florida, I lived alone in a one-person dorm, where I shared a bathroom with fifty other girls I didn’t know and who could care less if I didn’t make it to my dorm each night. I always had a cold shower, and I went to sleep without the comforting snores of my twin sister, Alissa.

We had a falling out over going to different colleges, and since then, our relationship had been tense. We didn’t talk every day anymore like we used to. In fact, she hadn’t called me in a week, too busy with her new life, new boyfriend, new job. I missed her. But Celine filled the gaping hole of loneliness just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to go on anymore, just when I thought I would cave and go home.

She’d been the light I’d needed.

Lately, I had been staying overnight with Celine, who had become such a close friend. She was like a sister to me, and I knew the girls at home on the ranch would love her—even Alissa.

She was recovering well—slowly—but every day was better than the last, and we had built such a strong bond in the last three months.

The best part of staying with her every night wasn’t our late-night talks, but when I snuck into her brother’s room, and we sat up well into the early hours of the morning talking about our pasts.

Ryan, Celine’s older and very attractive brother, filled a hole I didn’t even realize was there. His touch was gentle, his voice smooth and sexy, and his eyes were always understanding, never passing judgment.

Tonight was no different than any other night. After Celine fell asleep, I quickly snuck out of the room and padded lightly through the dark house to his room, tapping on the door, waiting for him to open it.

Every time the door swung open, I was struck by how handsome he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants, his shirt missing. Tonight, he pulled me into the room quickly, and we sank down onto the black sofa in his room.

I watched his eyes take in my red hair, all piled up on my head in a messy bun, and then lazily move down my face, lingering on my eyes and lips before sweeping over my baggy shirt and sweatpants. His intense gaze sent a shiver racing down my spine.

“Did she talk about Ace tonight?” The question started our nightly chats about a month ago when he heard her crying about how much she missed him. He cornered me when I went to get her a glass of water and demanded I come to his room later that night and tell him how to fix his sister.

He shared how guilty he felt for sending Ace away and then for not being at the house and saving his sister from ever falling for him. Ryan carried a lot of guilt on his shoulders. The accident and the beach house were not his fault—not in my opinion. Butdriving Ace away? Yeah, that was on him. Still, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him how wrong he’d been. Not when he already felt so terrible.

I didn’t want to tell him about how Celine called Ace tonight or her reaction to hearing his voicemail. The pain that flickered through her always-determined blue eyes upset me greatly. I wanted to hurt Ace for bringing this pain to my best friend, but he disappeared like a ghost—almost as if he didn’t exist.

“Yeah, she did.”

Ryan sighed and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees so he could drop his face into his hands. “I’ve broken her. It’s been three months since he left, and still, she talks about him.” His tan hands slid up his face and through his brown hair, pulling and tugging.

Reaching for his hands, I grabbed them, watching as Ryan turned his head to look at me. Devastation colored his features. “You didn’t break her, Ryan. She’s going to survive this.” He dropped his face onto my shoulder, his hands going limp in mine.

I held my breath, shaken by his sudden intimacy.He’s in pain. He doesn’t like you more than a friend. Don’t take advantage of the situation.

Those limp hands attached to steely, bulging arms suddenly wrapped around my still, hardly breathing body and pulled me to his chest. Every butterfly that had once been dormant in my stomach erupted into chaos, and my always-spinning mind stilled.

Ryan Wilson was hugging me.

Ryan Wilson, my best friend’s older brother, washugging me.

Holy shit!

I didn’t dare move. I didn’t even want to breathe. I didn’t want the moment to be gone before I enjoyed it. The smell of hisskin pressed against my nose, the warmth that exuded from his shirtless chest, his ragged breaths in my ear, the low groan that vibrated against my face—I wanted to enjoy all of it.

He clearly wanted me as much as I wanted him.

As suddenly as it happened, his arms were gone, and a blush tinted both of our cheeks. Our skin was no longer touching; there was now a small gap between the two of us on the couch. He was so close. If I just reached out for him, I could hold his hand.

With his blue eyes—almost identical to Celine’s—now downcast, I did what I had wanted to do since the moment I laid my eyes on the sexy man.

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